


He's Gonna Marry That Boy Someday

by ThegoodshipRickyl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bad Boy!Daryl, Blowjobs, Innocent!Rick, M/M, Skinny Dipping, Teenage AU, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThegoodshipRickyl/pseuds/ThegoodshipRickyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rickyl Teenager AU based on the song "She's In Love With the Boy" by Trisha Yearwood</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Gonna Marry That Boy Someday

**Author's Note:**

> So the song this is based on is one of my favorites of all time, and I couldn't help but picture Rick as the innocent farmer's daughter and Daryl as the no-good kid from the wrong side of town, the Katie and Tommy of the lyrics. I used the story of the song as a guide while trying to put my own Rickyl stamp on it, and I hope you enjoy reading the end result!
> 
> P.S. - I don't own anything!

Rick's family's house has always seemed unbelievable to Daryl, the stately white & green two-story with its wraparound porch looking out over lush pastures, the whole thing looming over him as he bounces up the gravel drive in his old blue pickup. The only welcome sight is Rick himself, sitting on the porch railing with a big smile, arms braced and legs dangling.

 

"Don't turn it off!" he calls out before he hops down and trots toward Daryl, scattering the chickens that have congregated around the front of the house.

 

"You ready to go already?" Daryl asks, his hands hovering over the keys, still in the ignition, as Rick flings open the passenger door and hops in.

 

"I'm not hangin' 'round here anymore," Rick tells him, nodding his head toward the house. "Dad was givin' me his old speech again."

 

Daryl nods knowingly. "The one where I won't amount to anything, and his _boy_ deserves better, and I'm gonna end up gettin' you in trouble, and you...."

 

Rick holds his hands up. "I don't need to hear it _again_!" He picks at his fingernails and adds wryly, "I'm just glad he doesn't think you'll get me pregnant."

 

"Tell 'im I been workin' on it," Daryl retorts as he whips the truck through a three point turn and hightails it out of there. Rick blushes to the roots of his hair but scoots over on the bench seat, kissing Daryl's cheek and leaning against him. Daryl takes a deep breath and grips the wheel, trying to keep his eyes on the road and his hands where they need to be, even as Rick is pressed so close, distracting him with his brand new jeans and curly hair, just waiting for Daryl to mess it all up.

 

******

 

Not long ago Daryl had promised Rick that he would take him out to the lake near where he lived on the other side of town, past the abandoned high school and the smoke shop on the hill. They had already done everything else on offer around their town; the bowling alley, the hamburger joint, the crumbling old movie theater, the old-fashioned ice cream shop. One time they even drove out onto the football field, looking at the stars and making out in the moonlight until the groundskeeper came after them with a hose, threatening to call the cops. Privacy is now their main concern, and Daryl knows that the lake will be safe, deserted on a chilly school night in October.

 

Daryl backs the truck up to the beach just as the sun is starting to go down. He pulls out a ratty old blanket and a bottle of Everclear from the back seat, getting a skeptical look from Rick.

 

"No way am I drinkin' that stuff."

 

Daryl shrugs. "More for me." He continues digging and his fingers close around another bottle, which turns out to be a mostly empty strawberry-flavored Boone's Farm. He shows it to Rick. "This more your style?"

 

"I'm not drinking _anything_ , Daryl. They'll smell it on me."

 

Daryl takes a quick swig of the Boone's Farm and kisses Rick deeply, burying his fingers into the curls at the back of Rick's neck.

 

"They're gonna smell it on ya anyway," he growls. He kisses Rick again then breaks away to get out of the truck, his head already swimming with just that small taste of both the alcohol and Rick.

 

Daryl flips down the tailgate and throws the blanket out over the bed, Rick following him in. They sit with their backs to the cab, Daryl clutching the Everclear to his stomach. Rick is spinning Daryl's class ring around his finger, eventually taking it off to toss it back and forth between his hands absently.

 

"We're gonna get real ones," Daryl assures him, winding his arm around Rick's shoulders. Rick's class ring is on _his_ finger, and he holds it up to the moonlight, watching the big fake red stone shimmer and glint like the lake in front of them.

 

"Shouldn't," Rick murmurs, scooting in closer to Daryl. "Dad'll probably just throw it in the fire."

 

"You'll be eighteen soon. You can tell him to shove it up his ass."

 

Rick sighs and huddles down further into the truck bed. "I _guess_."

 

Daryl scoots away from Rick, closer to the tailgate. "Hey? You wanna get your mind off that son of a bitch for a while?"

 

"How? Whenever I'm with you, all I hear is _his_ voice, sayin' all this _shit_. How you don't have an education, or brains, or money, or whatever else that doesn't matter." Rick clutches at his head and makes a frustrated growling noise. "I just wish that he could _see_."

 

Daryl leans back against the side wall of the bed, chewing his lip and playing with the frayed threads at the bottom of his jeans. "Most people don't," he says. "You're probably the only one."

 

Rick smiles a little at that. "I'm glad." He gets on his hands and knees and crawls over to Daryl, lifting his head up to kiss him softly. Daryl grips his arms and pulls him in to deepen the kiss. He moves to lie down on the truck bed, pulling Rick on top of him. Rick is warm, his weight on Daryl's body intoxicating, and Daryl slips away into a haze, letting his head fall back against the truck while Rick continues kissing down his neck, leaving marks all along his collarbone that he knows Daryl will wear proudly the next day at school.

 

Suddenly though, Rick is shaking him gently by the shoulder, and Daryl opens his eyes reluctantly. "Huh?"

 

Rick points in the direction of the tailgate. "Company," he whispers, and Daryl is scrambling up, terrified to see an angry groundskeeper or park ranger, or worse, bearing down on them. When he sees what it actually is, though, he pushes Rick away from him with a huff.

 

"A muskrat? Really man?"

 

Rick is giggling quietly even as he's rubbing at his chest where Daryl's elbow dug in, while the muskrat waddles along the beach, oblivious. Daryl rolls his eyes and takes another swig of Clear, choking it down. He steels himself a moment while the alcohol burns its way down his throat, then starts to unbutton his shirt and pants, while Rick looks on with a puzzled expression.

 

"Hell are you doin'? Leavin' me for that mangy thing?"

 

"Goin' for a dip," Daryl answers. "Join me?"

 

"You're crazy! It has to be freezing _balls_ in there," Rick says, backing away from him, his eyes widening as he takes in Daryl's bared chest.

 

"Suit yourself." With that, Daryl hops off the tailgate, pausing to take off his underwear and throw them on the pile with the rest of his clothes before jogging to the edge of the lake and charging in, gasping hard as the freezing water envelops him up to the middle of his chest.

 

"Gettin' used to it yet?" Rick yells from the truck, where he's reluctantly peeling off his own shirt and jeans, folding them neatly and placing them beside Daryl's.

"It's just _peachy!_ " Daryl yells back. "Like sunny Acapulco!"

 

Rick is wading in next, goosebumps standing out all over from his pale skin, his hands shaking as he grabs for Daryl to hold on to. They can't do much but grin at each other through chattering teeth, and Rick is the first to go completely under, wetting his hair down and pushing it back from his eyes while Daryl takes his turn.

 

Daryl is tired of sitting there freezing so he takes off swimming, hoping to generate some body heat through exertion. Rick falls in behind him and they go stroke for stroke until they reach one of the reflective buoys some ways from the shore, catching their breaths as they hang off of it and look at each other in the dim light it gives.

 

"Well," Rick starts, panting, "it's a little warmer _now_."

 

Daryl nods. "'S nice." He studies the water droplets that are dripping off Rick's hair and onto his face, rolling down to the tip of his nose so Daryl is tempted to lick the end of it. He settles for tasting the lakewater on Rick's lips instead, holding on to the buoy with one arm and wrapping the other around Rick's waist. He can't kiss him for quite as long as he likes, still somewhat breathless with the cold and their recent swim.

 

Rick is blushing sweetly when he pulls away, his eyes shining from beneath his lashes as he ducks his head into his shoulder, trying to wipe off the water that is dripping from his hair and onto his face. Daryl tries to help, pushing the damp curls off his forehead and leaving a small kiss on the cool skin there.

 

"We should get back," Rick whispers, his wet lips inches from Daryl's.

 

"Yeah I know." Daryl sighs, releasing the buoy and dipping under the water one last time before coming back up and heading for the shore. They're swimming much slower now, but they still get back much too quickly for Daryl's liking, hauling themselves out of the water and tramping heavily back to the truck to get their clothes. Daryl tries to shake his hair dry like a dog and gets a laugh out of Rick that makes up for the resulting dizziness. Rick is wringing the water out of his own hair and Daryl sees his sidelong gaze land on him as he's getting dressed. He smirks to himself, making an extra show of putting his shirt on, lifting it high over his head to give Rick a good view of his shoulders and back. He turns to Rick after he's fully dressed and sees him standing there with his jeans balled up in his hands, just watching Daryl. He drops his eyes sheepishly, and so Daryl goes to him, takes his elbows in his hands and kisses him. His skin is surprisingly warm when Daryl slips a hand around to the small of his back and brings them flush together, feeling Rick's still-naked hardness against him.

 

Without warning Daryl drops to his knees, running his hands all the way down Rick's body to his calves and back up to his hips, where he grips hard before taking him in his mouth, getting a gasp out of him that is followed by a long, low groan. Daryl looks up at Rick's body, his pale skin shining in the moonlight reflected off the lake, his stomach rising and falling with desperate breaths. His fingers tangle into Daryl's wet hair, feeling so good on his scalp that he has to moan around Rick's dick, which only makes him grip more tightly. He lets Daryl go at his own speed, though, hands relaxing and moving to rest with just his fingertips brushing Daryl's shoulders.

 

Daryl sucks him down hard and fast with Rick gasping and whimpering above him, a shuddering mess as Daryl rocks back onto his heels and wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. He picks up Rick's jeans from the ground as he stands, and pushes them into Rick's stomach, smirking at the stunned look on his face.

 

"Why'd you do that?"

 

"You're askin' me _now_?"

 

Rick huffs and pulls on his underwear and jeans. Daryl throws him his shirt and bundles up their blanket along with the barely-touched bottle of Everclear. He chugs down the last couple of inches of Boone's Farm and throws everything in the backseat of the truck as Rick finishes dressing and gets into the passenger seat.

 

Rick is nearly passed out as soon as his head hits the back of the seat. Daryl turns the volume on the radio way down as soon as he turns the key, though it still rouses Rick a little.

 

"Daryl?" he murmurs groggily.

 

"What?"

 

"You okay to drive?"

 

"Are you?"

 

Rick snorts. "Don't get too full of yourself now."

 

After that they drive in silence back to Rick's place. Daryl cranks the heat up and Rick grabs the blanket to cover his shivering frame. Daryl has to shake him awake when they pull up to the house, though Rick just shrugs him off and snuggles further into the blanket. Daryl watches him a little while, shaking his head and chewing his lip, trying to suppress the embarrassingly fond smile that's tugging at his lips.

 

He's surprised out of his thoughts when he hears a bang that comes from the house and Rick sits bolt upright, eyes wide, scrambling to get untangled from Daryl's blanket. "Shit," he whispers, and Daryl follows his gaze to the porch, where Rick's father is silhouetted against the light.

 

" _Shit_ ," Daryl repeats, getting out of the truck and slamming the door hard. He walks around to lean against the front of it, his arms crossed over his chest, just waiting. Behind him, Rick gets out too, closing his door much more gently, and stays back, keeping one hand on the side mirror and the other in his pocket.

 

Mr. Grimes steps down from the porch, and Daryl exchanges a glance with Rick, who looks pale as the moon. He trudges up the driveway and Daryl follows him, staying just a few feet behind as they meet Rick's father halfway.

 

"Son," Mr. Grimes says, low and firm, his eyebrows set in a hard line, "get on inside. _Now_." His hands are on his hips and his stance is relaxed yet authoritative as he nods towards the house.

 

"Don't do this, Dad," Rick implores. "All we did was go to the lake. That's _it_."

 

Mr. Grimes studies his son for some time before turning his harsh gaze to Daryl, who shoves his hands into his pockets and tries his best to look him in the eye.

 

"I need to talk to _you_ , boy," Mr. Grimes rumbles.

 

"I got nothin' to say," Daryl retorts.

 

Rick looks back at him desperately, and for a moment Daryl is terrified that his father will explode on both of them, but then the sound of the door slamming again startles all of them out of their tense state.

 

"Robert!" a stern female voice calls out. "What in the _hell_ is going on out here?"

 

Daryl has to stifle a laugh as Robert Grimes deflates, pierced by the strident voice of his very irritated wife, who comes flying down the steps in a housecoat, her chin-length curly hair sticking out wildly from her round face, her dark eyes snapping from Rick to his father, and most terrifyingly, to Daryl.

 

Her gaze finally settles on her son, and her eyebrows knit up in concern. "Are you okay, Rick? Is there a problem?" She quickly flicks her eyes to Daryl again before going to Rick and laying a hand on his arm.

 

"I'm okay, Mom," Rick says quietly.

 

"Daryl?" she asks next.

 

"We're fine, ma'am," Daryl mutters. "Rick's fine."

 

"Running around at all hours of the night is _not_ fine!" Robert says, stabbing his finger at the ground.

 

"It is _eight_ o'clock!" Rick's mother retorts. "They are almost eighteen years old!"

 

"They shouldn't be out together _period_!"

 

"Well they _are, Robert_!" his mother practically screams, wheeling around on her husband.

 

He looks stunned, and Daryl just wants to hide, or get back in his truck and drive off, maybe taking Rick with him if he could be pried out of his mother's grip.

 

"I don't get how you can't see," she continues, clearly exasperated.

 

"See what? How this sorry _punk_ is corrupting my boy? How he takes him away in the night to do God knows what and then they come slinkin' back up to the house like a pair of wet rats?"

 

Mrs. Grimes goes right up to him and pokes him in the chest. "You sound awful familiar, you know that? The only difference is, when _my_ daddy was yellin' at me about _you_ I believe he used the phrase ' _two-bit white trash_ '!"

 

Mr. Grimes again looks momentarily cowed, before he manages to draw himself up for one last spiel. "You tell him to get on up to his room," he commands, voice deadly calm, "I don't care _how_ old he is. If he's under my roof, he does what I say." He turns back to Rick and Daryl, and Daryl braces himself even as his finger is pointed at Rick. "And I say he can't see Daryl again until school gets out. Fall break comes, you can run around like a damn fool all you want, but _not_ before that. You hear me?"

 

Rick nods meekly and Daryl has to keep from smirking when they share a look, happy that he at least gets to see his boyfriend again. Mr. Grimes stalks off without another word. His wife follows him only after kissing Rick's cheek and rubbing his arm one last time.

 

"Come in soon, baby," she says, sharing a warm look with Daryl before she turns, wrapping her housecoat tight around her and jogging to catch up with her husband.

 

Rick's shoulders slump in relief and Daryl approaches him cautiously, reaching out a hand to brush his side with two fingers. "You alright?"

 

Rick nods, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry about all that. All that _shit_."

 

"Nah," Daryl says, shaking his head. "It could have been a lot worse."

 

"Yeah, I guess."

 

Daryl huffs out a long breath and shivers a little. "I'll see you... later, I s'pose," he says, shifting from foot to foot.

 

"See ya," Rick mutters, looking down at the ground.

 

Daryl lets out a frustrated groan. "Damn it, _Rick_." He grabs his chin, tilting it up to kiss him goodbye, thoroughly, with a gentle parting bite to his lower lip.

 

"It won't be much longer," he reminds him. "Hang in there, okay?"

 

Rick nods, and with a last pat to his shoulder Daryl trudges back to his truck. Rick stays standing in his rearview mirror until he turns off onto the county road. Daryl can finally release his breath and start planning for fall break, when he figures Rick owes him a blowjob and _he_ owes Mrs. Grimes a dozen roses.

 

******

 

Rick's house is left completely silent after the crunching of Daryl's tires fades into the night, after the slamming and locking of Rick's bedroom door finishes echoing in Marie Grimes' ears. She's still standing in the living room, her husband having gone upstairs without speaking to her. She sighs and starts after him, taking the steps up to their bedroom slowly, feeling the chill come in from the window, still wide open where she had earlier been listening in on her husband below.

 

Robert is standing there now, arms crossed, jaw set firmly, dark blue eyes looking coldly into the night. Marie goes to sit on the bed, taking her slippers off and sliding them underneath before turning to him.

 

"Stop being an _ass_ and get back to bed," she says wearily, flipping open their covers and patting the open space next to her.

 

He keeps his back to her, solid as a statue. "You made me look weak in front of them," he says, rubbing at his arm with his hand.

 

"Yelling at stupid teenagers for being stupid teenagers is _not_ strength, honey."

 

Robert heaves a sigh and lets his shoulders drop a little. He shuts the window, keeping his arms locked against it for some time before finally turning around and going to the bed, where he takes a seat at the edge of it.

 

"He's my only boy, Marie. Our only _child_."

 

She scoots over to him, pulling him in for a hug and resting her chin on his shoulder. "We'll have _two_ sons soon enough," she whispers, grinning at his anguished groan. He falls back onto the pillows, and she shifts to lay her head on his chest, tracing absent-minded patterns over his stomach.

 

"Have you seen the way our Ricky looks at him?" she whispers.

 

He grunts and playfully shoves her shoulder. "Is it anything like the way you're looking at me right now?" he guesses, pushing his chin into his chest so he can meet her eyes. "Even after I've been a damn fool all night?"

 

She smiles and presses a kiss into the fabric of his white t-shirt. "He's gonna marry that boy some day, Robert. You know that, right?"

 

Robert closes his eyes and sighs. "All I know is there ain't nothin' I can do about it." He kisses the top of her head and lets her fall asleep on his chest. Before he drifts away himself, he can't help thinking back to that day when he came up the road in his rusty white pickup. Her daddy's big old house, with it's bay windows and freshly-painted shutters and white porch columns, had always seemed unbelievable to him....

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my Best Good Judy Tuvalu for helping me with the characters of Robert & Marie Grimes, and for just being an all-around swell babe ;P


End file.
